


oh, it's such a shame

by soulofme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, M/M, POV Eren Yeager, POV First Person, Party, Post-Break Up, i guess they're friends???, idk man, they're at a party but that's not important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: "You look good," he says against my ear, voice low, and I swallow hard to ward off any unnecessary feelings."Yeah," I say back, not bothering to return the compliment, but he doesn't seem to mind. He laughs softly and pinches the fat that clings to my cheeks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I try to remember if I've ever seen him smile this much before.





	oh, it's such a shame

**Author's Note:**

> title from we don't talk anymore by charlie puth

The thing that sets him apart from the crowd is the barely-there, crooked smile that threatens to overtake his entire face. It's different from his usual expression, that even frown that made me want to tug my own damn hair out. I saw it more than I wanted to towards the end, and more times than not I was the cause of it. I just wanted him to smile for me, to make me feel like I was special, but sometimes that seemed like it was too much to ask.

A flush sits high on his cheeks, a blaring sign that he's probably drunk out of his mind. I slide down a little in my seat and keep my eyes fixed on him, willing him to both walk away and come closer. He keeps staring at me as if I'm a stranger inhabiting a familiar body, and I guess I kinda feel like that most days. Then he pushes through everybody and sits down next to me without even asking. I rest my beer can between my thighs and sit back, keeping my eyes on the empty space he once occupied.

"You look good," he says against my ear, voice low, and I swallow hard to ward off any unnecessary feelings.

"Yeah," I say back, not bothering to return the compliment, but he doesn't seem to mind. He laughs softly and pinches the fat that clings to my cheeks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I try to remember if I've ever seen him smile this much before.

"How's school?"

"Fine." My throat is dry, suddenly, and I curl my fingers around the shape of my beer can. The cold sensation sends a jolt up my spine and it takes me a few moments to realize how overheated I am.

"Yeah? You graduate yet?"

"Yeah, back in May," I say. "How's work?"

He snorts softly and settles back against the worn-out couch we're on. "You're asking me about work?"

"Small talk. Exchanging pleasantries. All that dumb shit."

"Right, right." He rakes a hand through his hair and I track the movement with my eyes. "It's good. I got promoted."

"Congrats," I say, but it comes out forced rather than genuine.

"You used to hate it when I worked."

"You didn't know how to balance-" I start to say, but then I cut myself off. It doesn't matter how he handles himself now. He's not my problem anymore.

"I've been working on that," he says. He leans over again, close enough that I can smell the cologne he's been wearing since high school, and I try not to seem as affected as I feel. "Thanks for that, by the way."

I resist the urge to shove him away and tilt my head back against the couch instead. There are a bunch of those cheap string lights lining the walls. I follow their path with my eyes, stopping at intersections and curving around bends. He watches me silently the entire time.

"Opposites don't attract," I find myself saying. He arches an eyebrow but I keep staring at the ceiling. "That's all bullshit. Some dumb ass romantic came up with that."

"Right," he says, and I wonder why he's being so fucking agreeable this evening. "It's an unrealistic expectation."

Swallowing hard, I continue. "Love and reality are two different things. Love implies that those unrealistic expectations ring true. But reality? Reality shows us that we're all goddamn idiots."

He whistles softly. "Someone did a number on you."

I smirk. "Something like that."

He looks at me with this unreadable expression then, an expression that basically screams that he pities me. There's something else mixed in, though I'd have be goddamn crazy if I thought he felt  _regret_.

"We were too different, huh?" he asks.

"We were young," I say, and he snorts quietly. "Young and stupid. Just like everyone said we were. We thought we were invincible and we..."

"Weren't?"

I laugh because it's strange that we're on the same page now. He laughs too, as if he knows why this whole situation is so fucked up, and when he throws an arm over the back of the couch I don't even flinch.

"We're not that different, you know," he says slowly. 

"Right," I say, suddenly conscious of how my words might affect him. "We're not."

It's as if my walls have come crumbling down. My body goes physically limp and I finally look him right in the eye. He looks back at me evenly and I shake my head softly.

"Are you happy?" he asks me, and I think of a hundred and one answers to that question.

"Sure," I say instead, and his eyebrows furrow slightly. I wait for him to apologize, to say that he understands, to validate my feelings in any way.

Instead, he smiles that fucking smile again.

He stands up so suddenly I get whiplash. I feel defensive all over again, and my hand automatically finds its way to the beer can still sitting between my thighs. He ruffles my hair before he disappears back into the crowd, instantly becoming lost within the throng of bodies. I lift the can up to my lips, close my eyes, and take a slow sip. I don't know why I expected something different. We're the same people, leading the same lives, going through the same shit.

Nothing's changed, after all.


End file.
